A Middle Name And What Grandmothers Do

Well, Spring continues to rush its way through our world, catching us up in it and here we are, here we are.
They have given Gibson the middle name of Monroe and if he does not grow up to be a poet as Madame Radish King suggests he will, he will surely grow up to be a grand bluegrass musician. Or something fine.
Gibson Monroe.
And now old Mer is going to make some food to take over and the flowers are blooming and the birds are singing and I hear that Gibson slept well last night and nursed well and that Owen is being a monkey boy and we are all still amazed, still grateful, and I am going to cook.

May Finally Writes Something She Shares.

http://allwriteythen.blogspot.com/

Make Way, World. Gibson Is Here

What a day. What a beautiful first-day-of-spring day and what a day.
We all just keep saying, "I don't believe it."

I went to bed last night fully expecting to be woken up in the middle of the night but no, the phone didn't ring until a little after seven this morning and Lily was crying. "I just can't do this anymore," she said.
"What's going on?" I asked her.
"Just the same thing. I can't sleep but they only last a minute and I have to get out of bed and this could go on for days and I can't do it!"
And so forth.
She was so afraid she hadn't made any progress. She'd slept some until about three- thirty when she could sleep no longer and she'd done all of her contractions by herself and honestly, I thought she was probably still prodroming and I asked if she'd called the midwife and she said that no, she was coming at 10:30 anyway and I said, okay, we're coming.
I woke up Jessie and I packed up clothes and a toothbrush and books and crocheting stuff and food and well, I was just prepared for a long, long day. Hell, I packed a pillow!
We got to Lily's and she was outside, and yes, crying, and yes, she'd called Diana and I tried to comfort her and from the looks of things, I had no idea where she was at, despite all of my experience. Yes, she was crying but Lily cries. She was saying, "I can't do this anymore," but her contractions were short and she was still doing things. She wasn't in that far-away place that women in transition usually are. We went in the house and Owen was eating his breakfast and Lily didn't want to let him go anywhere but she knew she had to. She hated upsetting him when she had a contraction. He wanted her, he wanted to comfort her. He didn't seem too upset, but still. He just wanted his mama.

We made the decision to call Bop to come and get him and then Diana got there and Lily said, "I feel all this pressure!" and Diana got her on the bed and checked her and said, "Well, honey, you're feeling so much pressure because you're nine and a half centimeters dilated!"
Oh boy.
Oh boy.
We called May to hurry. We got things set up. Diana's assistant was far away. May got there. Bop came just in time because one of us was having to be outside with Owen and no one wanted to miss the birth. This is how selfish I am: As Diana was setting up she said, "I think I'd like Jessie to help me and I said, "Actually, I did birth assisting for years. Jessie is a mama-baby nurse in post-partum."
HOW MEAN IS THAT? But true, although Jessie always attends the deliveries at her hospital too. But it was all okay because Bop got there and grabbed the boy and took him off. Lily was already pushing and so Jessie was there and Jason and May and me and in about ten minutes, so was Gibson.
Yep. That's his name.
Gibson. Which is my middle name. My great grandmother was Mary Gibson. And I also gave that name to Jessie as a middle name. It's a fine name. It's also the name of a company which makes very nice guitars which pleases Jason. They're not sure about the middle name yet but they're honing in on it.
Anyway, Gibson was born with a minimum of fuss or blood although the cord was wrapped around his body but Diana just unwrapped him and let Jason finish the delivery of the body and then he was handed off to Lily and well...there you go.
A perfect, fast, beautiful home birth.



Here's Jessie doing her nurse thing:


Oh god. It was just so perfect.


He hardly cried at all, that boy but turned spring-rose-pink in a few minutes. His breathing was fine, his heart rate was fine, his reflexes, all good. He latched on right away like he knew what he was doing and he was just so chill. Just so...here.

My goodness.

After the midwife's assistant got there and Gibson had nursed well and we'd all talked to him and loved him, Diana helped Jason to cut the cord and they did the newborn check and Lily took a shower and then we called Bop to bring Owen home.

Oh my. That boy is in for some changes but it's going to be good.

He wanted his mama to put the baby in the baby's bed but he did hold him and Bop got some great video of all of that on his phone.

And that was it- the baby was born at 9:03 this morning and I left the house around three-thirty. Uncle Hank had come over to meet him and it was just so lovely, everyone at home and no one coming to take the baby to "clean him up" (he was perfectly and beautifully gorgeous and needed no cleaning whatsoever and most babies don't, despite what they tell you) and when I left, Jason was holding Gibson who was sleeping and Lily and Owen were cuddled on the bed together, getting some Mommy-Owen time and Jessie's spending the night with them.

Oh. He weighed 9 lb., 2 oz. and he is 20 inches long. He has a lot of black hair and perfect little bow-lips. He has peed and he has pooped. I think he is also talking. I am sure I heard him say, "Ma," and also, "nurse."

I hope Lily gets some rest. She's going to need it. I hope that Gibson (it feels so weird to call him that) continues to be a good nurser. I hope that Owen falls in love with the baby and goes to sleep sweetly tonight.

After it was all over, Lily said, "Some of those contractions really hurt."
I about cracked up. I told the midwife that and she laughed, too.
Lily was born to have babies, obviously.

I feel so incredibly grateful and blessed. It was such a perfect birth.
I told Diana after it was over that when I met her, I knew that everything was going to be wonderful and she said that when she met Lily, she knew the same.
I can't say enough about the joy of having a home birth. Of the bliss of a baby being born at home with his mama and his daddy and his aunties around him and a good, good midwife.


I asked Jason if he liked the home birth. He said he did. That it was awesome to be able to catch the baby himself instead of having to sit up by Lily's shoulder and having to wait until some doctor told him he could touch his son.

It's that and it's so much more.

My baby had a baby today on the first day of spring and it was as prosaic and as miraculous as anything you have ever imagined.

Welcome, Gibson. You are loved.

He's Here!

Details to follow. All is very very well.

Every Day Soon Means Sooner

There you have the children. Or what I call the children and always will, even if I am in my eighties and they are in their sixties and fifties. Mr. Moon and I met up with everyone for lunch and we had spicy food and it was so sweet.
I sat there and began to cry a little bit.
"What's wrong, Mama?" they asked, but I told them that nothing was wrong. Nothing at all. I was happy. I was scootched up next to Owen who was eating pizza because he didn't want Mexican and he was rubbing his pizza all over me and I was just...happy.

Lily appears to be in what they call "prodromal" labor which is when the uterus is beginning its work and getting tuned up, as we might say, for the actual labor to begin. It can be painful and difficult because the contractions feel quite real but they are not regular and they are generally short. The biggest problem about this stage of labor (which some women never feel) is that it is so tempting to try and really get things "started" by walking and being very active when what the body really needs is the rest and nutrition it will truly need when labor begins in earnest.
And so Lily had her spicy food and then we walked around World Market and then she went home and napped for awhile. Her wise midwife advised her to take a Benedryl tonight, or have a glass of wine to try and get some rest.
I concur heartily. When true labor begins, she won't be able to sleep and she will wish that she had when she could have.

Oh, how I remember all of this. This is how I labored, too. Hours and hours and sometimes days of these tuning-up contractions. This is not false labor. It is just the beginnings of the process. And sometimes a lot of work gets done in this part of the process. The cervix thins and dilates and everything gets set in the proper position.
But it feels so unfair to the mama who is naturally thinking that this is it! the baby will get here soon! and yes, she is right, but once again- that relativity of the word soon comes into play. So hard to be patient and wise and restful when the heart and soul tell you to hurry! come on! let's do this thing!
Pregnancy and childbirth are actually the best beginning lessons of what parenthood will require. That's just the truth and they are not easily learned. There is nothing easy about them at all.

And so we all wait. We do not want to sit around and watch her like a pot set on the burner to boil. We all know about those watched pots. No. We need to let her be, just as she needs to let her body do what it must do, all in its own time. We do not need to be fussing over her. We shall fuss over her when it is time to fuss over her. Until then- we get our own rest, we let her do what she needs to do to go into her next stage of labor.

I keep thinking of the baby chickens who are incubating right now. How absurd it would be to try and hurry that process. Pointless, too.
Did you know that tiny chicks in the egg have beaks which are designed to peck their way out of the egg when it is time? They do. Isn't that clever? Isn't that amazing?

And so, we continue to wait. She will let us know when it is time, when she needs us with her. Jessie is with her now, just hanging out, helping with Owen.
This is a special time. An exciting time. And for all of us to get together today was a joy to me. Probably the last time we'll all get together for a lunch out before this baby comes. Probably. But who knows?

I can't wait. I can wait. I have no choice. Even as I write this, things are progressing. Just as with the eggs, we can't always see the progress, but we can be sure that progress is being made.

I'll let you know. I am grateful for all of you who are following this most basic and ubiquitous experience of them all. The most incredible and miraculous, too.

There is much to be pondered there.
I do.

Let us all get our rest tonight. A baby is coming soon.

A Good Day

I've been having this pain in my right shoulder/back area that has gotten worse and worse. It's to the point that last night it was almost making me feel a little nauseous. Well, the pain or the salmon casserole. I do not think it was the casserole which was awesome if you want to know the truth.
Freaking awesome.

Anyway, around nine-thirty I admitted defeat and popped a purloined pain pill (can I alliterate or what?) went and got in bed with a book which was NOT The Stranger's Child which I did finally finish at four-thirty-a.m. yesterday morning (and what a relief THAT was) but which was an Alexander McCall Smith book. It is one of his Isabel Dalhousie books and as my pain diminished and I fell into Isabel's world of philosophical ethics, sleuthing, and family, I felt like I was in heaven.
And then I slept and I slept all night and it WAS heaven and I woke up this morning and my golly! it is still heaven.

And. And. And.

Lily called and she's been having contractions since around 3:30 a.m. Now. The train may or may not have actually left the station as they have not established a regular pattern but they were strong enough to wake her up and remind her of what labor feels like.
She and Jason had promised Owen that they would take him to the bouncy-place today which I am assuming is some magical kid establishment where they have lots of bouncy things and Jessie has gone into town to go with them because they are going. I reminded Lily that she needs rest, rest, REST but of course, she promised her boy and she wants to go with him and as long as she can walk and talk we can only assume that labor is not really quite here but she can perhaps see the train coming down the track.
God. We hope.
It would be a beautiful day to have a baby or to be in labor, at least.

And my back would be grateful. I have not felt overtly anxious but I think I am putting it all quite quietly into my back, that knot of pain there, and I am fairly sure I'm not going to really relax until Lily is holding her baby and all is well.

Not that Lily needs to have her baby so that my back will quit hurting. But...you know.

Well. We shall see, won't we?

Speaking of trains, two have gone by already this morning. The chickens are out, scratching away, the dogwoods are blooming, the tung trees too. It is Monday morning and the world is busy. I can hear trucks downshifting to go over the tracks, I can hear birds singing and twittering and the bees are tenderly molesting the wisteria and the tung and the amaryllis and every living thing is shining in this morning's good light.

I'll keep you posted.

Yours truly...Grandmother Moon

If Sloth Is A Sin, I Am Going To Hell

Well, I have had just about the laziest day of my life. I suppose I was remembering the Sabbath Day and Keeping It Holy. Or at least wholly on the couch where I watched some extremely inane TV and pretended to crochet while Jessie sat beside me and knit.

I did sweep the hallway. That took me about four hours to complete.

Yep. I've wasted an entire day.

So what? Who cares?

Now I think I'll make a gluten-free salmon and noodle casserole, just like Mama used to make.

As if!

Jessie isn't doing gluten these days. I, on the other hand, can't get enough of the stuff.

Anyway, although I can rationalize wasting an entire day in my mind, I still feel mighty guilty but hell's bells- guilt is my default emotional setting so what difference does it make?
Not much, baby. Not much.

Yours in guilt and Sabbath Holiness...Ms. Moon

Sunday Morning

Sometimes I'm just freaking prescient.

He's already in the bath tub. The real one.

I'd say he has ADD but I'm smarter than that. I know he has NLBHS.

Normal Little Boy Hummingbird Syndrome.

It's a good morning here in Lloyd.

Gasping

It's been hot today. Not hot like it's going to be hot- the sort of hell hot that is very much like opening the oven door and if you put your face in it, you would gasp and it'll be that hot before long but now it's just hot. Regular hot.

I worked outside and I weeded and mulched and I'm already filled with the existential pointlessness of it all. I know from all these years' experience that the weeds will catch up and overcome, the insects will have their way with things growing there. It's a little early in the season to be feeling like this but perhaps I am finally learning and what I will eventually figure out is to grow two tomato plants in pots and leave it at that and buy my beans in the store like everyone else.
I don't know.

I did other outside things too, all of them too boring to relate.

Mr. Moon did a fabulous job of cleaning off the roof, though, and you can see the results, clear and shiny like the tin of the roof he cleaned.

I wish my work were ever like that. Clear results, obvious and bold. Instead, my work always seems to be made up of things that are so ephemeral. Cooking meals, doing laundry, weeding the garden which will be filled with weeds again in a few days.

Well. You know. That IS life and this is life and I'm not complaining, I'm just saying that this is how I feel at the moment and speaking of meals, it's time to make another.
I sort of wanted to make a corned beef and cabbage dinner, not because of any sort of Irish tradition, but because dammit, corned beef and cabbage and carrots and potatoes are delicious but I'm not doing that. I'm not cooking corned beef. Often this time of year I am at Gator Bone like I was last year, cooking vast quantities of corned beef and cabbage and Irish soda bread and hanging out with the best people in the world and listening to music and then going to sleep at night and waking up in the beautiful cabins down the road at the state park.
Ah well. No Gator Bone party this year and no corned beef and cabbage either but that's all right.
Soon a baby.
That word keeps coming up and it is truer every day.

Time to go cook and yes, it was hot today and it's going to get hotter and if Lily doesn't have her baby tonight or at least go into labor, she and Owen might come out and have pancakes in the morning and that will be lovely. We'll sit under the Bradford Pears and their white blossoms and the oak tassels, too, will fall in our plates, and we'll pick them out and we'll drown our pancakes in maple syrup and Owen can run around naked and I'll get out the big, huge pot I use to cook corned beef and cabbage in at Gator Bone and let him fill it up with water from the hose and he'll get in it, and he may gasp at the coldness which is funny- we gasp at heat, we gasp at coldness, we gasp at beauty, we gasp at pain, we gasp at joy.

We are humans. We gasp and we grasp and sometimes we just unfold and put the silverware on the table and shred a cabbage for coleslaw and we sit down and we eat and then we clean up the kitchen and we go to bed and we lay down and we dream and we snatch those dreams from night time and we carry them with us during the day.

Sometimes we do.

As if we had planned it that way. As if we had.

I Have No Focus. I Have No Point

It's a good year for bamboo, y'all. And wisteria. It's always a good year for bamboo and wisteria. This is because they are invasives.

Okay. This is how unobservant I am: I did not know that Jessie came home from town last night EVEN THOUGH HER CAR WAS PARKED IN THE YARD AND I WAS WALKING AROUND THE YARD AND JUST DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE IT.

I think I'm losing my mind, y'all. I really do. I had even just told Lily on the phone that her sister had gone to town last night and was still there. I told her, "If you get in touch with her, tell her to let me know she's alive." Meanwhile, her car was within eye-shot. As I was speaking. On the phone. And she was upstairs, asleep.

Well, what you gon' do?

Pay a little more attention would probably be the answer to that one. For all I know, there's a stranger living upstairs in the other bedroom. Or a tiger. I'd never know. I'd just blame the sounds on squirrels when in all actuality, it was the stranger or the tiger or, more likely, FUCKING RATS!

Okay. We're having a vermin issue.

Smart vermin who refuse to take the bait.

Last night I had some incredibly crazy dreams. I was working on top of a huge, huge tower in Chicago, I think. I kept dropping things off the side, like Owen's shoes. My journals. I went down, down, down to collect my things but the base of the tower was about forty-blocks around. I never did find those shoes or that journal. Or whatever else I was looking for. I found some interesting scenarios, though, including a dog who tried to attack me. I told that dog, "You do that again and I'm kicking you into next month."
Huh. Turns out I'm a mean mothafucka in my dreams.

Not so much in real life, I assure you.

So I had a walk around the yard. Here's some wisteria:


In all actuality, it's WAY up in the trees.
Or actually, bamboo.

The beans are busting the dirt:


Those are some yard-long beans I planted. They did so well last year that I planted them again this year. They are majestic, those beans!

My zinnias are coming up!

Not too impressive at this point, eh?

Now how did I notice those zinnia babies but not a car?

You got me.

So Jessie's going to go back to town to hang out with her sister and her nephew. I'm going to work in the yard. I have all sorts of things I need to do including trimming things that need trimming and hoeing things that need hoeing and mulching things that need mulching and raking things that need raking.

Boy oh boy. I know you can't wait to hear how THAT goes.

Well, we're just hanging out, you know, living our lives, waiting for the baby to decide to get born. Poor Lily. She sent one of her best friends a text message yesterday and the gist of it was basically, "Please quit texting me to ask if anything is happening. I promise I'll let you know if it does."
People just don't understand how it is when you're pregnant and a few days "overdue." The thing at work that was making her craziest was people saying, "You're still pregnant?"
DUH! NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!
Do people really think they're being witty when they say things like that?
Oh, they're just being conversational. They're just trying to show concern. Etc.
Either that or they're idiots.
I remember one time (when I was pregnant with Lily, by the way), someone asked me if I was sure I wasn't having twins and I burst into tears.
I bet that person never did THAT again.

Okay. Here's Mr. Moon on the roof:

He's sweeping leaves off of it.
He puts me to shame.
I better go put on my overalls.

Time's awastin'.

Happy St. Patrick's Day. Whatever that means. Personally, I try to avoid green beer. Which isn't really that difficult if you think about it.

Love...Ms. Moon

Marriage And Technology

Text to Mr. Moon today:

We need vodka. And mousetraps.

Reply:

Okay.

And then he remembered both.

I got no complaints.

A Tiny Trip To Monticello

Aren't my babies beautiful?
I got more. Beautiful babies. And one more coming.
Jeez.
I'm like the luckiest woman in the world.

I Have No Title

My Lord. Every day it gets more beautiful. I keep thinking I'll take more pictures. Then I think, shit, everyone has seen all of these pictures. Wisteria? Check. Dogwoods? Check. Crazy bamboo? Check.
Then I think about Pioneer Woman. She posts the same pictures over and over and over again. Of a Beagle. And cows. And her husband's ass.

Whatever. I need to let go and let god as concerns Pioneer Woman.

So yeah, it's a beautiful morning and I don't have a thing on my mind except to go take the trash and maybe go to Monticello because I need to sign something at the bank there for the Stage Company. I would like it if Jessie and Lily and Owen came with me. We could have lunch and shop at the thrift store. I need to talk to them. Jessie spent the night over at Lily's. I slept like a demon last night after reading in bed for awhile.
I am trying to finish up a book I've been reading for about fourteen years now. Not really.
The Stranger's Child by Alan Hollinghurst.
It's got a very long cast of characters and goes from one generation to another and I usually just REFUSE to read books that require so much memory work on my part but it's rather delightfully written so I am making the effort and last night I told Mr. Moon that I was going to finish that book, dammit, I only had ninety more pages to go, and he said, "Tonight?"
No. No, I reassured him. Just...soon.

Soon. The baby will be here soon. I will finish that book soon. It's all relative.

When Jessie and I went to the branch library yesterday a guy was working there who used to work at the downtown library. I knew I hadn't seen him in awhile so I said, "Did they move you over here from the main library?"
He said, "I've been gone for five years."
He swears he's been gone for five years. Swears. To Australia and Oregon and other places.
I thought he'd been gone for like six months.
I swear.
I am not sure I believe him. I think maybe he was fucking with me. But really- why would he do that?
My mind is still boggling. I feel like Rumplefuckingstiltskin.

All right. Here's some more dogwoods. And a very, very old and beautiful oak tree. In my front yard.


Gotta go take the trash.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Day

Jessie and I went to town and I got my glasses adjusted but it didn't do much good. I think that the deal is that old people have eyes that are just impossible to correct perfectly and also, that by the time evening rolls around, my eyes are just too damn tired to make the effort to find the right places in my glasses to focus.
Does that make sense? Maybe, if you're in progressive lenses too.
Anyway, that experience didn't make me feel any younger although it was pleasant enough. I tried to talk the glasses adjusting guy into coming home with us so that he could change things as the day and evening progressed but he wasn't too keen on that idea.
Sigh.

I'm just feeling old today. Sort of worn out and run over. I don't know why. I just do. I think my children laugh at me behind my back. Well, sometimes they laugh at me to my face, but sweetly. Even though it's a sweetly thing, it still makes me feel old. No, I cannot park a car anymore and I do back up at approximately 1/1ooth MPH (this is so that if I hit someone it will not cause them much damage). These things are true.

We made Lily come out with us for a run to Target after the glasses adjustment. She'd left work early, come home and put her maternity uniform shirts in the trash. I was proud of her. She didn't really want to leave Owen at home but Jessie told her she had to and sometimes when Mean Aunt Jessie tells Lily to do something, Lily will do it. Jessie has her powers.
So we went to the Target and looked at stuff and I bitched because they don't have any plain white cotton nightgowns (and I think the girls laughed at me behind my back about that) and we looked at baby things and I spent a crazy amount of time looking for a damn alarm clock that will suit my needs which are legion. They are: Numbers you can see but which are not so bright you can land a plane by them, an FM radio and an alarm that works. It does not need to make nature sounds or play CD's or have an iPod dock. It has to be heavy enough to stay on the night stand.
I found one, finally, and we checked out and we took Lily home. Jason had cut the grass and mopped the house. That man is READY to have a baby.

We are all ready for Lily to have her baby. We were all bitchy this afternoon and that's a fact. Bitchy McBitch Bitches. Jessie was tired, I was...whatever I am (old, fat, worn-out and tired), and Lily is nine months, plus, pregnant.
It was pretty fun, though, even still, and I wish May had been there too. Hank, too, to tell you the truth, even though he is a man.

So now I'm home and I need to make Mr. Moon's and my dinner. Jessie has gone back to town to hang out with her sister and nephew and brother-in-law. It's quiet in Lloyd and the sun is going down and I have my alarm clock set up. All I had to do was plug it in and it was set. Cool. Even I can handle that.

One more thing. I bought Bruce Springsteen's new CD (at a freaking Starbucks, y'all and I'm not even going to touch that) and I read this in the liner notes that Bruce had written about his band mate, Clarence Clemmons who died last year:

"Clarence was big and he made me feel, think, love, and dream big. How big was the big man? Too fucking big to die. You can put it on his gravestone. You can tattoo it over your heart.

Clarence doesn't leave the E Street Band when he dies.
He leaves when we die."

Well, there you go.

Love you...Ms. Moon

Not A Bad Place To Spend Eternity

I took this on my walk today. Those of you who have been here for some time, recognize the site. It's an old graveyard from way back in the early 1800's and hidden right off a tiny road that leads nowhere but to a horse farm. I imagine there was a little church there at one time. There is a dogwood.
Someone tends it sporadically but not very well.
Still.
It is a place where bones rest, quiet as can be, peaceful and with no need for the world to know of it.

While We Wait, We Observe

Well, welcome to another lush spring day in Lloyd, Florida.
This is what it looks like from my back porch steps.

Wasn't I just bitching about how brown everything still was?
What can I say? It was a valid point then.

But the trigger has been pulled and there is no denying it now. We are firmly and delightedly in spring.

The tung trees are beginning to bloom. They are just fucking exquisite, their blossoms such a pale peach and the way the flowers float on the tree is nothing short of an ancient Chinese silk painting. This tiny flower is not yet all the way opened but it probably will be in a few hours.

And guess what? It is time to kick the bamboo!
Yep.
And that stuff grows so fast. Yesterday I didn't see one shoot sticking up, today it looks as if the bamboo gods have been beneath the earth, puncturing it with their bamboo knives. It's sticking up everywhere. Here's one that in the space of 24 hours has popped up AND managed to grow its little head of green-sprout hair.

I need to get Owen back out here in his boots to kick the sprouts over. It's the only way to control the growth of it. And it's not an unpleasant pastime, to walk around and kick the bamboo.

So no, no, Lily is not in labor. She is back at work. I talked to her this morning. She really thought it might begin to happen last night but no, it didn't. And so...we wait.
Jessie got in at two-thirty a.m. and is still asleep upstairs. I haven't seen her yet, but found her note in the kitchen, saw her car in the drive.
And so, here we are. Waiting but not anxious. There is much to do. The garden can take all the tending we want to give it, the yard could use attention. The house could use cleaning from top to bottom. I need to get my glasses readjusted. All the tiny details that take our time and attention are available, as always, for distraction.
And of course, there is that bamboo to kick.

Here is Elvis in midcrow, showing his fluffy butt.

Mr. Moon and I looked at all the eggs last night with the lightbulb and the coffee can to see what we could see inside of them and except for the brown and green eggs which we cannot see through, we could see moving life inside them all. So Elvis is going to be a daddy, at least to the chickens from the eggs laid by our hens and we hope he will be a good stepfather or uncle to the banty chicks. We shall see.

All, as they say, will be revealed.

Perhaps not today, but soon. I just realized that we haven't asked Jason and Lily what sort of a tree they want to get to be planted over the baby's placenta. Something, I would assume, that is blooming now and what a world of trees to pick from.
A dogwood is always nice.

Well, there you go. No real news except for the subtle kind, the peachy blossoms of the tung, the upward thrusting of the bamboo, the movement in eggs of coming-chicks, the purple littering of the side yard with wisteria petals, the first beans in the garden to push up through the soil, last night's gentle rain, Jessie's arrival home.

It'll all do for today. We are given reason to celebrate, even as we wait.

Tender Day

I am feeling so tender today. Owen was a joy and he took all his clothes off in the sunshine outside and I got out the biggest pot I have and let him fill it up with water from the hose and he had such a good time in it.
"I love this bath!" he said.
I remember when I used to do the same for Hank, when he was a sproutling, although I had to fill the canning kettle with water from the hand pump. I had no running water then.
Same result. Happy babies.

I am feeling like Lily's baby is going to come soon. Now, by soon, I am not sure exactly what that means, but it won't be too much longer. She went to work this morning, cheerful and happy and by break time, she was ready to go home. She is having cramps, she is feeling "off." I told her GO HOME! I told her to lay down, to rest. If she is in labor, her body will continue its work uninhibited and will be able to do what it is ready to do.
Labor is a process and is hardly ever like it is in the movies where the water breaks and chaos ensues and contractions begin long and hard and before you know it, someone is delivering in a car.
Sometimes the body has to coordinate itself between uterus and cervix, get a pattern going, a working-together. Often, in fact.

Well. We shall see. Telling my daughter to rest is good advice whether labor is beginning or whether it isn't. She is nine months pregnant and she needs to have these last few days with her husband, her son, the three of them together to get ready to welcome a new love into their hearts. There was a bittersweetness for me today with Owen. I have taken care of him now for almost two and a half years and it has been the most precious time I could imagine. I am quite certain I will be taking care of just him again but this part of our lives together is almost at an end. I feel like it has been the greatest honor of my life to be able to tend this boy, to get to know him so well and so easily, to watch him grow, to become a walking, talking person, to remember the baby in my arms he once was.

This is the sweetness of life. This is the rich, honeyed joy of it. When we laid down to nap today, I could hardly bear the way he turned his back to me to rub it. The way he said, "Peep," which is the story I tell him, which he knows will put him to sleep, the trust he has in my hands, my words, my care.

And it has been so wonderful, this experience for Lily so far with this coming-baby. I remember when she was pregnant with Owen and how many ultrasounds they did and how that doctor kept chastening her to go ahead and get induced because her baby was getting too big, how her due date loomed and then passed, with no signs of labor beginning and how she must have felt there was something wrong with her body when really, nature was only taking its time and how that process should have been allowed to proceed on its own. This time, there is a calm peace about it. There is a sense that all is well.

She can go home and rest. Her midwife is ready, her husband is ready, her mother and sisters are ready. We are ready for when she and the baby are ready because I do believe they work in tandem, the two bodies so closely and mysteriously and miraculously connected.

Well. It continues to be a beautiful day. I am going to tidy things up around here. Maybe work in the garden some, mulching. We are waiting but we are not impatient. Jessie is trying to get off work tonight so she can begin the drive down. Why not? If she is early, good. If labor is beginning, she wants to be here and her sister wants her here.

All right. Thank all of you so much who come here and keep up with us. Some of you remember when Owen was born. I think about that and how people from literally all over the world were waiting for that boy along with us. I felt you all then. I feel you all now.
I am humbled for the support and love you give us.

Okay! On we go. I'll let you know how things unfold. You know I will.

Love to all.

Me

Naked Lunch At Mer-Mer's

Scatter Shot

Okay- I have an idea. The Republican slate of candidates is so lame that the whole presidential campaign is going to be such a waste of time that I think we should skip it and just declare Obama president again and take all that money and use it for education.

Nah. That'll never fly. Of course not. Too bad.

Did you see Mitt trying to pander to the southern vote? He ate "cheesy" grits. Haha! I bet he did. We do not eat cheesy grits in the south. We eat CHEESE grits. Kiss my southern ass, Mitt. Then go eat some more cheesy grits.
What a jerk.

It's a beautiful morning. It's like Hollywood Technicolor Beautiful today. Almost...cheesy. The sun is shining so bright it looks fake. The roosters are crowing. The birds are singing. The wisteria is blooming. The bees are buzzing. The Bradford pears are starting to blossom. The fig trees are holding their leaves up in a stiff, bright green salute.


I expect someone to burst onto the scene singing, "Oh what a beautiful morning!" at any second.
Musicals are weird, y'all. Some people really like them. I never really have.
I don't have that gene.
Yep. I think that even the loving of musicals is probably a gene.

I didn't get the musical gene or the religion gene or the patriotism gene.
I DID get the cooking gene, the loving-babies gene and the must-plant-shit-in-the-dirt gene.

Here's another gene I didn't get- the flag-flying gene. I don't fly any flags although I was tempted to fly an American flag when Obama got elected because for the first time in my life I was proud of our country in a very profound way. Almost a flag-flying way.
But I didn't.
I really hate those flags (and I apologize if you fly them) that proclaim "Happy Spring!" and so forth.
Gawd.
I'd rather just plant some flowers and let them proclaim the season.

I suppose I better get some breakfast before Owen gets here. A guy is coming to fix our well pump, too. I think. He came yesterday to do diagnosis. He did not appear to be a happy man and I immediately took a dislike to him because he would not say hello to my grandson although my grandson very politely and nicely kept saying, "Hey!" to him. "Hey, Man!" Owen said, raising his hand in greeting.
Well Guy ignored him. Are you kidding me?

Anyway, they have to take the roof off of the pump shed to get to the pump motor.
Oh boy. This is going to be a day.
A good one, I think. I am in a good mood and I am not going to take my eyes off of Owen for one second.

Y'all have a good one too.

Love...Ms. Moon

He Was Lost, But Now He's Found

Owen scared the CRAP out of me today. In this house, this big old rambling house which has dozens of closets and trillions of doors to the outside and rooms that wend and wind their way for miles (okay, maybe a LITTLE hyperbole is at work here, but NOT MUCH!) I keep my eye on him pretty much every second. If I can hear him playing in the next room, I might do something like wash a dish and then run go check on him. But today I lost sight of him for maybe an entire minute and a half while the guy who was here to fix the well pump was talking to me and in that amount of time, he'd disappeared. I was FRANTIC and could not find him. I was looking in every room under beds and in closets and checking outside and running around calling him, pleading with him to come out and finally I found him crouched in his grandfather's closet with his hands over his eyes, knowing at that point the plan had gone horribly awry and that no real good was going to come out of it.

I knew, even as I ran from room to room calling him that he was fine. I knew it and yet, my mind could not help but go to all of those insane places that minds go to in such circumstances.

Lord, Lord, Lord.

When I found him I caught him up to me so tight. I smooshed him to me. He spilled his grape juice all over me and said, "Sorry, sorry," and I said, "No. Don't worry about the grape juice but OWEN! you cannot hide from Mer-Mer like that! It scares me so!"
I talked to him. I tried to explain. How do you explain such fear to a two-and-a-half-year old? How? You can't. They cannot understand. Especially if they've never had the experience of not being able to find YOU or their mama or their daddy, ever in their lives.
We settled down in the bed, him a bit chastened and yet, also a bit cocky about it all. He'd caused Mer-Mer to have a huge reaction. He knew it. It wasn't exactly good but it sure was interesting. I told him the Mr. Peep story, he fell asleep. I did too.

Oh, that boy.

Lily's midwife appointment was great. I know I keep saying this but I just adore her midwife. She's not all new-agey and weird about it. She's as sensible and down-to-earth as anyone you'll ever meet. She instills confidence and faith. Bless her. The baby sounded great, Lily is doing great. The midwife did an internal check and the cervix is starting to dilate. Could happen tonight, could happen in a week. Who knows? Not us. But it is good to have encouragement that the process is working. Lily's tailbone feels better and so we believe it is not broken and a little more time for healing would be good.
Also, Jessie is coming in on Thursday.
What a party we are going to have!
A baby-being-born party! What a joyful event it's going to be.
She went on cheerfully to work. Thursday is her last day. Thank goodness!

And so it goes.

It is so still here in Lloyd right now. I mopped the kitchen and although the rest of the house is in dire need of cleaning, at least that one room feels good. Smells good too, like Fabuloso and white vinegar. But it's crazy-sky out there, still as a moment paused in time. Gray and not just with coming-night. One bird calls. The rest are silent. I have rugs in the dryer. Not one leaf flutters. The bees that were here earlier to sip from the blooming wisteria seem to have gone home to the hive. The chickens are scratching for their last tasty bugs and roots before bed. I gave them a styrofoam take-out container with hummus in it and tabouli. They ate the hummus as if they'd had spoons. The tabouli did not interest them so much. Chickens are interesting creatures. When I get the egg cartons out of the recycle thing at Publix, I think it's funny when I see that certain eggs come from vegetarian-fed hens. My hens love bugs more than anything. They are not vegetarians, I'll tell you that.
When I went to take the trash about an hour ago, I saw the goldey hen in the little shed thing where the attendant watches TV and hangs out on a discarded Lazy Boy. He and the hen were hanging out together, having a snack. It made me laugh.

Speaking of chickens, Mr. Moon candled some of our eggs today and saw life for sure (he thinks) in some of the banty eggs. Oh my. They are due to be born on the 25th. First a baby, then baby chicks. I see that some of my cucumbers are sprouting.

Life is happening everywhere. New life popping up and old life continuing on. It is a flat-out miracle. I think of Roseanne and when it was exactly that I fell in love with her. It was when I saw her do stand-up somewhere on the TV and say, "You get home, these kids are alive, I've done my job."
Every mother in the world knows that although that line is funny, it's got more than a germ of truth in it. Someone had spoken the truth.

You get home, these kids are alive, I've done my job.

That is our job, isn't it? To create life and then maintain it.

That pretty much sums it up. The rest is gravy.

Well, the kids are all alive. I've spoken to Jessie and May, and Mr. Moon who is playing cards at the bar where Hank is doing trivia tonight sent me a picture of the two of them and of course I've seen Lily and just talked to her again. She was just getting home from work and I'm sure that right this second she is hugging up her boy to her.

It's still still. I need to go shut up my chickens so that they too will be safe. I do not think it is the calm here before the storm. I think it is just calm.